


Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

by Proskenion



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Wuthering Heights - Emily Brontë
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flogging, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kisses, M/M, Rejection, Tears, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 02:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20613137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proskenion/pseuds/Proskenion
Summary: At the beginning, everything was fine at the Heights, and under Father's watch everyone was happy. Aziraphale and Crowley could go and play in the garden and beyond, free and untroubled. But when Father leaves, forsaking them all behind, Gabriel becomes the new master and Crowley is cast out. Everything and everyone seems determined to tear Crowley and Aziraphale apart. Will their love for each other be strong enough?





	Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> HULLOOO ! 
> 
> So, this is my little gem and I'm more than happy to share it with you, hoping you'll like it as much as I do. Wuthering Heights and Good Omens are my two absolute favourite books, and I HAD TO put them together. I basically took the Good Omens characters and threw them into Wuthering Heights universe. To make it work as I wanted to, I had to twist both canon a little, but I do hope I manage to keep them all in character. 
> 
> I based it mainly on Wuthering Heights novel, though I also incorporated two scènes from my two favourite film adaptations. As for Good Omens, it is as much inspired by the novel AND the TV series, I suppose. 
> 
> Comments and reviews would be much appreciate, as I really put my heart and soul into it. I'd love more than anything to know your thoughts about it. Also, I've tried my best but since it hasn't been proofread, some grammar mistakes might still be found. Please, please, please, tell me if you spot them, so I can correct them - that's the only way I can learn and improve my English :) 
> 
> Enjoy !

One night, Father brought him home. Crowley was his name, and he was tall for his age, long and lean, dark and burning with an inner fire that reflected in his strange, wide eyes that were of a so bright hazel that they almost looked yellow at the fireplace light. 

Gabriel looked at Crowley with contempt and defiance, and you could tell at the way the young boy looked back that he felt just as much distrustful. Aziraphale, on the other hand, seemed curious. From afar, Anathema and Shadwell were watching carefully. The maid was silent, but the old servant was mumbling unintelligibly. 

‘Crowley is your brother now,’ said Father. 

Gabriel snorted. Crowley smirked. The two boys glared at each other, and an untold oath of being sworn enemies was passed between them. 

Aziraphale stood up and walked to Crowley. The boy looked at him from head to toe. They were physically as similar as the golden sun is from the night sky, but something immediately resonated within their hearts, and they recognised themselves as kindred spirits. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. 

‘You’re our brother now,’ he said. 

The first years Crowley spent at the Heights were close to heavenly joy and blessed contentment. Aziraphale and him had quickly grown inseparable, and nothing could spoil their hapiness, not even Gabriel’s jealousy. They would sneak out of the garden to run and play in the moor all day, coming back at night, all covered in mud, but with their faces beaming. Shadwell would never miss an opportunity to lecture them, but what could an old man’s words do to their young hearts ? 

Father was always there, and always distant. His presence prevented Gabriel to really lay into Crowley, but the older boy would still find ways of expressing his jealousy and his hatred. Father was there, and Father wasn’t there. And one day, Father was gone. 

Father left, forsaking them all in this now dreaful place, deprived from Father's aura, with Gabriel to become the new master. And with that, Crowley’s fate changed radically. 

‘You’re unworthy of the Heights,’ Gabriel told Crowley. ‘I don’t want you here anymore. You’ll sleep outside, in the stabbles with the animals, where you belong. And if you want to stay, you’ll have to work, earn your place here. You’re not one of us.’ 

And thus Crowley was cast out of the Heights. Crowley’s life changed, but there is one thing Gabriel could never take away from him, and it was Aziraphale’s companionship. And though it became harder than before, with Gabriel and Shadwell watching them tightly, they kept escaping together to the moor as often as they could, despite the interdiction of going out of the garden. But Crowley had to work, and Shadwell, following Gabriel’s order, would make sure he got as many chores to do as possible in a day. Anathema would watch, silent, and quietly making sure the two young boys would still spend time together as much as she could let them. 

That day, Crowley had been sent to mend a collapsed wall on the property. Aziraphale, on his own, was getting bored. This task could take Crowley the whole day, and a day without Crowley was a lost and never-ending day for Aziraphale. The golden-haired boy went outside. 

He walked in the garden, looking for something to do. But nothing was good enough to fill in the blank of his friend’s absence. So he left the garden, with the intention of joining him. 

When Aziraphale found Crowley, he stopped and waited until the boy noticed him. It didn’t take long for Crowley to get aware of his companion’s presence. They shared this special intuition that would always let them know when the other was around, as if their twin souls reckonised each and started to vibrate when the other was near. They would know each other in the dark, with all their senses gone. Crowley smiled, going away from his work. Shadwell called him, ordering him to go back to work, but Crowley ignored him. 

‘You’ll be in trouble,’ Aziraphale told him. 

‘I don’t care,’ answered Crowley. 

Aziraphale smiled. He took Crowley’s hand in his and they ran away, leaving Shadwell’s screams and threats far behind them, where they couldn't neither reach nor hurt them. 

They only stopped running miles and miles away. Breathless, they collapsed on the ground, and they burst into laughter. They sat face to face. Aziraphale put his hand in his pocket. He took an apple out of it. 

‘There,’ he said, ‘you must be hungry.’ 

Crowley stared at him for a while, smiling absent-mindedly. He put his hand on Aziraphale’s wrist, his other hand on the apple, and without letting go of Aziraphale, he took the fruit to his mouth and bit in it. The fruit's juiced poured, running down Crowley's chin and Aziraphale's fingers. They smiled. 

They shared the apple and took a nap. Lying in each other’s arms, they watched the sky and the clouds pushed away by the wind. At that moment they weren't two boys but one unique creature enclosed in one private world that no other living soul could reach - they were one single microcosm united together against time and for all eternity. After a while, Crowley asked :

‘Can you talk to trees ?’

‘What ?’ Aziraphale laughed. ‘No. Can you ?’

‘Hmm-mm,’ Crowley nodded, smiling. 

‘I want to talk to a tree,’ Aziraphale said, sitting straight. 

Crowley sat up straight too. He showed his friend a tree in the distance, and told him to watch it, and listen. Aziraphale laughed, but obeyed. Crowley came closer and pressing himself against Aziraphale’s back, he wrapped his friend in his arms. He put his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and whispered to his ear to watch carefully. For a while nothing happened. Nothing happened until, suddenly, dozen of birds flew away from the branches, and it felt like their tweets and chirps were the voice of the tree itself. Aziraphale laughed again. 

‘How did you do that ?’ he asked Crowley. 

Crowley answered with a smile only. Aziraphale smiled and lied down again, putting his head on Crowley’s lap. Crowley stroke his friend’s blond hair. 

‘Who sent you ?’ Aziraphale asked, closing his eyes. 

‘I don’t know.’

‘The stars ?’

‘Yes.’

‘A tree ? The wind ?’ Aziraphale kept going, smiling.

‘No, the stars.’ 

Aziraphale laughed. He opened his eyes and looked at Crowley, who was looking down at him fondly. He slowly carressed his cheek with the tip of his fingers, a small rain of sweet pleasure on Crowley's skin. 

‘Why did they send you ?’ Aziraphale whispered. 

‘For you,’ Crowley answered. 

Aziraphale smiled. Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and softly kissed his palm. Aziraphale closed his eyes again. 

When they came back home night was almost upon them already. Gabriel was waiting for them. Shadwell had told him about Crowley leaving his work, and Gabriel was furious. The punishment was inevitable. 

‘No,’ Aziraphale pleaded, ‘it’s me, I made him stop working !’

But neither Gabriel nor Shadwell would listen to him, and Crowley was tied up to the whipping post, shirtless, and Shadwell went to get the whip. Aziraphale begged and cried, but to no avail and Shadwell gave the first blow and Crowley screamed, and Aziraphale kept begging and crying long after the first lashes on Crowley’s bare skin. 

Aziraphale couldn’t fall asleep that night. Crowley had been flogged because of him, and he was tortured by guilt, and by his anger towards Gabriel’s cruelty. Eventually, he sneaked out of bed and walked outside, through the garden and all the way to the stabbles, in his nightclothes and barefoot. There he found Crowley, lying on his belly. When the boy saw Aziraphale coming in, he sat up. 

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Aziraphale explained, kneeling beside him. ‘Does it hurt ?’

Crowley looked at him straight in the eyes. It was no use to lie to him, and even if he had wanted he could not have done so. Slowly, he nodded. 

‘Show me,’ Aziraphale asked in a breath. 

Crowley turned around. Aziraphale watched at the wounds. The blood was dry now but the cuts were still sharp. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Aziraphale whispered. 

He put his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. He bent forward, and he delicately kissed one of the cut. Crowley shivered. Slowly, meticulously, Aziraphale started kissing and licking all the cuts on Crowley’s back. Every single one of his touches induced a small sudders on Corwley's skin, like infinitesimal shooting stars of pleasure and pain both. Crowleyclosed his eyes, bit his lip, felt the moan roll Inside his throat. When Aziraphale was done, he simply sat up straight and waited for his friend to turn and face him. 

‘Is it better ?’ Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley nodded once more. Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s cheek and stroke his skin with his thumb, tracing the curve of his lips. Crowley leaned forward and curled up in his friend’s arms. 

Those flogging often occured, Gabriel loved lashing out on Crowley. But they would always provide the two friends another moment of sweet intimacy. Aziraphale sat on Crowley’s straw mattress and Crowley lied down, putting his head on Aziraphale’s lap. The curly-haired boy stroke Crowley’s long, fire-like hair and carressed his face, hushing and humming, until Crowley fell asleep. 

Not far from the Heights were a place cold the Grange, and there lived Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon. The Grange looked like a perfect representation of Heaven on Earth, when the Heights were looking more and more like the fallen remaining of Eden. One night, while they were running in the wild moor, realising they were getting closer to the Grange, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to go and have a look. 

They quietly climbed the wall to get into the Grange’s garden and slowly came close to the house. Watching through a window, they saw Michael reading next to the fire, while Uriel was playing an air on the piano. Crowley sneered. 

‘Do you like those celestial harmonies, angel ?’ he asked Aziraphale, sarcastic. 

Aziraphale laughed. The living-room door opened and Sandalphon entered, holding a tray with tea and buiscuits. Hiding themselves but still managing to watch inside, they looked as Sandalphon was serving tea to the others. Michael stood up to join him. That’s when an idea came to Crowley’s mind. He winked to Aziraphale and stood up. 

Crowley hit the glass of the window. Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon jumped. They looked through the window to see Crowley pulling faces at them. Uriel screamed, almost falling from her chair, which made Aziraphale laughed aloud. But Sandalphon had already run outside, and dogs' barks were heard in the distance. 

‘Quick, hurry up !’ Crowley exclamed, catching Aziraphale’s hands and running away. 

But the dogs were on their heels, and Aziraphale abruptly lost his balance and fell. He cried out. When Crowley turned around, he saw that a dog had caught his friend’s leg in its jaw. He ran to it, throwing stones at it. But the dog only let go of Aziraphale at his master’s command. 

Sandalphon took Aziraphale in his arms and brought him to the Grange. Crowley ran after them. He walked inside the house, uninvited, but determined not to leave Aziraphale alone with those Strange people. 

‘It’s Aziraphale, from the Heights,’ said Sandalphon, coming in and unaware of Crowley following him. 

‘Aziraphale ?’ Michael repeated. ‘I can’t believe Gabriel lets him wander so far from the Heights at that hour.’ Then, noticing Crowley, he exclaimed, ‘and who on earth are you ?’

‘Crowley,’ the boy said, ‘and I’m not leaving without Aziraphale.’ 

‘He’s injured,’ said Uriel with concern, looking at Aziraphale’s leg. 

Michael looked Crowley up and down. Aware of her disdain, Crowley glared back with all the dignity he could gather, lifting up his chin in provocation.

‘You’re that wretch that was brought at the Heights years ago, aren’t you ?’ she asked. 

‘Let Aziraphale go,’ Crowley answered with defiance. 

Michael smirked. 

‘Sandalphon, throw that little rascal out of here.’ 

Crowley struggled to escape Sandalphon’s hold, but the man was stronger than him. He screamed, yelling he wouldn’t go without Aziraphale. Michael told him they would take care of him, and then Crowley was kicked outside. He kicked at the door and called Aziraphale's name but nobody would listen, and finally he surrendered. Going away, he looked through the window to see Michael and Uriel looking after Aziraphale’s wound. 

Crowley walked his way up to the Heights. He was getting ready for a lecture, and a good thrashing, but he got none of those. Instead, when he told what happened to Gabriel, he was only welcomed by a dreadful silence. He went to bed without eating anything, despite Anathema’s plead. 

Aziraphale stayed at the Grange through all his recovery. All this time on his own felt like an excrutiating hell for Crowley. An eternity all together in the moor would feel like Nothing at all and never enough, but a simple hour without the other was similar to the most intolerable torment. But one day, finally, Michael brought Aziraphale back at the Heights. Although, their reunion did not go as Crowley had expected it. 

Gabriel had ordered him to stay away from Aziraphale, unless he was told otherwise. So Crowley watched Aziraphale and Michael arriving from afar, not daring running to meet his friend. But as soon as Aziraphale arrived and hugged everyone, he asked :

‘Where is Crowley ?’

‘Crowley !’ Gabriel called. ‘You may come forward, it’s allowed. Come and wish Aziraphale welcome.’

Crowley slowly appeared in the shadow of the main door. He watched Aziraphale, carefully. His friend was changed, somehow. He was neater and tidier, more like _them_, and less like _him_. 

‘Look at him, slithering in the shadow,’ Gabriel cursed. ‘Come forward, I said !’

‘Crowley, have you forgotten me ? Aren’t you please to see me ?’ Aziraphale asked, going to him. 

The blond boy hugged his friend and took his hands in his. He burst out laughing. 

‘Look at you !’ he exclaimed, ‘you’re so dark and grim, and so dirty.’ 

Crowley immediately let go of his friend’s hands, stepping back as if burnt by his touch. 

‘You needn’t have touched me,’ he hissed. 

And he ran away. Aziraphale felt a lump in his throat. He turned to the others, asking what was wrong. Gabriel said :

‘Leave him, let that snake seethe his anger elsewhere.’ 

Michael stayed for dinner. And as everyone was gathering in the front room, Anathema went to look for Crowley. She found him in the stabbles, feeding the horses and other beasts, as usual. The maid smiled. 

‘Crowley, won’t you come with us ?’

Crowley didn’t answer. He blatantly ignored her, which angered Anathema a little. She told him quite dryly that she wouldn’t waste time with him if he were to sulk like a spoiled little child, and that he was a nasty little scoundrel and that there was no wonder Aziraphale was cross with him when he had such a bad behaviour. She left. 

A moment later, though, while she was in the kitchen making dinner, Crowley appeared in the doorway, head bent. 

‘Make me decent, Anathema,’ he said slowly. ‘I wanna be good.’ 

Anathema smiled. She knew that telling him his behaviour would affect Aziraphale’s happiness was the best argument to convince him to change his attitude. She helped him wash, and dress, and more importantly she helped taming his wild, burning hair as much as she could. Crowley was ready for dinner, cleaner and neater than he had ever been in years. 

But when he came in the front room, he was welcomed by Gabriel, who immediately fulminated against him for daring showing himself. Anathema tried to calm the master down, and said she thought Crowley could have his share in the dainties.

‘He’ll have a share of my hand if I see him downstairs again ‘till dark !’ Gabriel exclaimed. ‘Be gone, you snake !’ 

‘Look at him,’ Michael commented, ‘I’ve never seen such wild hair before. And those eyes ? He looks like he came straight up from Hell !’

Maybe Michael didn’t actually mean to offend Crowley, or maybe she did. She had made that comment matter-of-factly, without realising the fuss she was about to provoke. 

Crowley, deeply offended by the woman’s comment on his look, let his rage take over his senses, and he seized a tureen of apple sauce, the first thing that came under his grip, and threw it at Michael’s face. She shrieked. Aziraphale jumped up from his seat. Gabriel rushed on Crowley, and catching him by his collar, dragged him out of the room. Anathema were already near Michael trying to clean her from the burning sauce. 

‘What a furry you have here,’ Michael complained. ‘As I said, coming straight up from Hell…’ 

‘You haven’t been very polite either, if I dare say,’ Anathema scolded. 

Michael gave her a sidelong glance but didn’t comment. She let the maid clean her face and clothes as much as she could and went to sit on her chair again, brooding. Aziraphale was standing at the front room door, looking outside with anguish. Enventually, he turned to Michael and said :

‘You shouldn’t have said that, why did you have to say anything ?’

Michael shrugged, moody. She couldn’t understand that Aziraphale could worry that much over a mere servant, worse, a vagabond, a snake, a scum from Hell. Aziraphale went out of the room, and came back a moment later, saying : 

‘He’ll be flogged, I hate him to be flogged – I can’t eat my dinner.’ 

At that moment, Gabriel came back, red and breathless. Aziraphale stared at him angrily before looking away. He felt on the verge of crying, but only Anathema noticed that. 

But as soon as dinner was served, all this situation seemed forgotten, and everyone got merry again. Anathema thought Aziraphale quite selfish, forgetting about Crowley so quickly. But she was to be proven wrong as soon as the dance after dinner started. Aziraphale waited quietly until the best moment to disappear and sneak out of the room, unseen. Anathema followed, only to make sure nobody would come and disturb him and Crowley. Sitting on the stairs, she could hear their voices as they talked through the door of the room Crowley was locked up in, but she couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying. After a while, she couldn’t hear them at all anymore, so she decided to go up and see. 

How surprised she was when she saw Aziraphale had managed to open the door and come inside. Slowly, she pushed the wooden door open. 

The two boys startled, but sighed in relief when they recognised the maid. Aziraphale told her Crowley was hungry, and Anathema agreed to go and fetch him something. 

Crowley was in a pitiful state, but the happiness of being reunited with his friend, finding their complicity again, made him forget about the pain. Aziraphale apologised for what he said, Crowley for his previous behaviour. Anathema reapeared, and told Aziraphale his absence would start to alarm everyone downstairs. Regretfully, the golden-haired boy left. 

‘There,’ Anathema said, handing a plate to Crowley. 

The boy took it and ate. Anathema wacthed him in silence. Gabriel’s thrashing had left the boy all bruised, surely more than the maid could actually see. She told Crowley that she would look after his wounds later tonight. Crowley looked straight at her. 

‘I hate him,’ he said, with a strange light in his golden eyes. ‘Gabriel. And one day, I’ll pay him back.’ 

Anathema didn’t speak. Instead, she took the empty plate from his hands and walked away. 

Days passed, and life got back to normal. Or, actually, almost to normal. Aziraphale started spending more and more time with Michael, and sometimes Uriel too, going to the Grange or receiving his new friends at home. He also started to wear new, very refined clothes. Once Crowley asked him why he was now always dressing as if he was about to go to some official ceremony, and Aziraphale had simply answered that he had standards. Crowley was getting gloomier every day, but Anathema seemed to be the only one to notice or care. One rainy day, while Aziraphale was looking out of the window, Crowley asked :

‘Are you waiting for someone ?’

‘No,’ Aziraphale answered. ‘Crowley, aren’t you supposed to be in the fields by now ?’

‘No,’ Crowley answered. ‘And Gabriel and Shadwell are out in town, anyway, so they wouldn’t know. I’m staying with you.’

‘Hmmm.’ 

Anathema watched them carefully. She could tell Crowley was seething and about to burst at any moment, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice. After a while, he said :

‘Actually, Michael was meant to come today, but as it’s raining, I don’t expect her to come after all.’

‘Good,’ Crowley mumbled. 

He got up and joined Aziraphale near the window. The curly-haired boy looked at him. 

‘You see this almanach ?’ Crowley asked, pointing at the one hunging on the wall. ‘The crosses are for the days you spent with Michael and the others, the dots for the ones spent with me.’ 

‘And what is that for ?’ Aziraphale asked matter-of-factly. 

‘To show you that I care,’ Crowley answered sharply. 

Aziraphale looked at him, pouting. He glanced at Anathema who was pretending not to listen. She could tell the boy was feeling uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t step in to help him in any way. She thought he quite brought it upon himself. 

‘Crowley, you should go,’ Aziraphale said slowly. ‘Just in case Michael shows up. I can’t really be seen fraternising with…’ 

The boy stopped. Crowley’s eyes were sending lightnings. He hissed, much like a snake. 

‘Fraternising ? Fraternising with what, exactly ?’

‘With you,’ Aziraphale said in a breath. 

Crowley gritted his teeth. For one moment he looked like he would strike Aziraphale, and the boy felt scared. But instead, Crowley hissed again, and went outside despite the rain. Aziraphale looked at Anathema pleadingly, but the maid made it a point not to look back. 

Michael did not come that day, and Crowley remained unseen. When the night came, and with it Gabriel and Shadwell, Aziraphale stopped waiting for Crowley to come home. They all had supper in silence and Aziraphale went straight to bed. Anathema was well aware of the boy's distress and she started to Wonder if she sould not have done Something earlier. But what was done was done, now. Happy not to see Crowley around, Gabriel did not bother asking after him. 

Aziraphale couldn’t sleep, though. So, later that night, he came downstairs. He found Anathema near the fireplace in the kitchen. 

‘Can I talk to you ?’ he asked.

‘Hmm-mm.’ 

‘I can’t sleep.’

‘So I see.’

‘I have strange dreams,’ the boy said.

‘I don’t want to know.’

Anathema believed that dreams could tell things, and she had a particular sensitivity to it. She didn’t want to know about Aziraphale’s nightmares, in case she could see something terrible in them. 

‘I’m telling you anyway,’ the boy declared eventually. 

‘Then I’m not listening.’

Aziraphale told her about dreaming he had died and gone to Heaven. The angels who welcomed him up there strangely looked like Michael and Gabriel. But he didn’t feel comfortable there and was begging to be sent back to earth, so the angry angels ended up throwing him away from Heaven. He fell down back to the Heights, where he woke up crying with relief. Anathema didn’t say a thing about it, but a strange feeling took hold of her. 

‘I’m telling you this, because I think it will help me confess what I want to confess.’ 

At that exact moment, Anathema noticed a figure in the shadow behind Aziraphale, and she realised it was Crowley, listening. She did not warn Aziraphale. 

‘You know I’m spending a lot of time with Michael, and Uriel and Sandalphon, since… what happened,’ Aziraphale resumed.

‘Hard not to notice,’ Anathema grumbled. 

‘It is because… It is because I feel I should be more like them. Like Gabriel and Michael, that’s who I am, right ? But… But something feels wrong, something… Something inside me is fighting against it, despite my will.’ 

Anathema swallowed. She glanced at the figure in the shadow. Crowley was so still that you could barely tell he was there. Aziraphale sighed.

‘Oh, if only Gabriel hadn’t put Crowley so low, I wouldn’t even have those kind of thoughts. But now… He was one of us, once. But he’s not anymore, since Gabriel cast him out. And so he shall never know how I love him.’

‘Aziraphale,’ Anathema intervened, glancing at Crowley again. 

‘No, let me speak,’ Aziraphale said with some sort of fever. ‘Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and Michael’s is as different as a moonbeam from lightening, or frost from fire. If all else perished and he remained, I should still continue to be ; but if he all else remained and he were annihilated, the universe would turn into a mighty stranger. He is always, always in my mind, not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being. Anathema, I am Crowley. My greatest miseries in this world has been Crowley’s miseries ; I’ve watched and felt each from the beginning. And then, I must renounce him, because he is not one of us anymore, and…’ 

‘Stop,’ Anathema said. ‘I can hear Shadwell coming in.’

And indeed Shadwell walked inside the kitchen, bringing freshly cut wood from outside. When he came he said :

‘Just saw this lad runnin’ like ‘e got the devil on his heels !’

‘What ?’ Aziraphale asked, turning blank. 

‘That snake, Crowley.’ 

Aziraphale turned to Anathema. The maid frowned, a tangle forming in her belly. She slowly told that Crowley was there, and heard every single words he said. Aziraphale immeditely stood up and ran outside. 

‘Crowley !’ he called, running under the rain in his night clothes and barefoot. ‘Crowley ! Oh, Crowley, please, please ! CROWLEY !’ 

He called and yelled and ran until his lungs burnt, but Crowley was nowhere to be seen. Rushing in the moor, Aziraphale was breathless, his heart pounding against his chest as if trying to escape and fly to the part that was achingly missing. When Aziraphale went back to the Heights, all wet and in tears, he was burning with fever. He collapsed. 

He stayed days and days in bed, talking to no-one, drinking little and eating even less. He only spoke to call Crowley with a hoarse voice. It felt like his life was slowly leaving him. And that is exactly what it was, for a life without Crowley meant only death and despair. How could he live without his life? How could live without his soul? 

Crowley did not come back, and Aziraphale was worse and worse. The doctor was not hopeful about his state, and everyone was getting ready for the worse. Until, one night, Anathema heard some noises in the kitchen. 

‘Who’s there ?’ she called, arming herself with a wooden spoon. 

‘It’s me,’ Crowley said, getting out of the shadow. 

Anathema gasped. 

‘If Gabriel sees you,’ she started to say, but Crowley cut her short.

‘Bring me to Aziraphale. Now.’ 

Anathema nodded, and after making sure nobody was up, she led Crowley to Aziraphale’s bedroom. 

‘Leave us,’ Crowley said. 

Anathema hesitated, but eventually complied. She stayed behind the door, though, just to make sure nobody would come to disturb them. 

Crowley went to the bed. He sat on the mattress and waited for Aziraphale to wake up and notice him. And Indeed Something flickered in Aziraphale's heart. When the sick boy finally opened his eyes, he almost cried out.

‘Crowley, you’re back,’ he said in a feeble voice. And then, in a breath too slow for reproach, ‘How could you leave me ?’

‘How could I leave you ?’ Crowley repeated. ‘How could you ?’ 

Aziraphale looked down. Tears were filling his eyes. It was true he had left first, if not physically, at least in his mind. 

‘Why did you come back ?’ he eventually asked. 

‘I… I couldn’t stay too far from you,’ Crowley confessed in an undertone. He had tried not to come back, his anger pushing him forward. But the more distant he would put between the Heights and himself, the more it felt like dying. So he turned back and rushed before losing himself completely. 

Aziraphale smiled, before being striken by a fit of cough. Crowley held his hands, whispering comforting words until the fit stopped. Aziraphale said weakly :

‘I almost died because of you. By leaving, you nearly killed me.’ 

‘You forced me to go. You nearly killed me, and yourself.’ 

Crowley let go of him and stood up. He walked to the window, turning his back on him. How could Aziraphale blame him, when he had forsaken him first ? But immediately, Aziraphale called him back, begging him to stay, and his weaken voice and soft crying was too much for Crowley to bear. He spun around 

‘Don’t you dare leave me again,’ he said, crying. ‘Or this time I will die for good.’

‘Leaving you ? Oh, my sweet angel, how can I bear it ?’ 

Crowley rushed to Aziraphale’s side again, kneeling and taking his hands in his again, hands on which he shed hundreds of burning tears. 

‘You are my life, you are my soul,’ he said through his sobs, ‘ I cannot live without my life, I cannot live without my soul!’ 

Aziraphale reached out at Crowley’s hair, burying his face in it, saying :

‘Oh, Crowley, don't let me see me your eyes, or I'll…’ 

'On the contrary, Angel,' Crowley interrupted, seizing his face to make him look at him. 'Look at them. Look at my eyes, and see how much I love you.' 

Aziraphale looked and shivered. Crying, and caressing Crowley's wild hair, he whispered: 

'Oh, those eyes, those gorgeous golden eyes...'

For a while they looked at each other in silence, crying, their tears mingling and falling together as a salted waterfall of the strongest and purest love pouring out of their hearts. Then, Aziraphale said :

‘You know that dream I’ve had ? I know what it means now. I have nothing to do in Heaven with those angels if you’re not there. Gabriel, Michael, they do not matter, do you hear me ? They do not matter. I’ll gladly leave my place in Heaven for good if it means I’ll be forgotten here on earth with you. My Heaven is where you are.’ 

Crowley smiled through his tears. He took Aziraphale’s face in his hands. 

‘My Heaven is where you are, angel,’ he repeated. 

They kissed. A sweet, passionate, wet with tears kiss. When they pulled away, Aziraphale leaned his forehead against Crowley’s. 

‘Promise me you’ll never leave me again,’ he whispered. 

‘I promise I’ll never leave you again. Do you ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

‘I promise I’ll never leave you again.’ 

Aziraphale moved aside and Crowley lied down next to him. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him. Crowley said softly :

‘Just you and I, together, like before.’ 

‘Yes. You and I, together. On our side.’

‘On our side.’

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading <3


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